


no place i'd rather be (than with you next to me)

by glowinghorizons



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Slow Burn, the gang is all here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 12:11:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6657250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/glowinghorizons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You can’t just pick the apples–”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“It’s an apple orchard–”</i>
</p><p> <i>Bellamy stares at her so hard that Clarke can practically feel a hole being burnt into the side of her head. His hands are on his hips in that way that he does sometimes, when he’s trying to mother-hen Octavia or trying to make sure Jasper and Monty don’t burn the place down. </i></p><p>or:</p><p>Bellamy owns a cider mill, and Clarke needs a job while she’s away at college. Slow burn. Mostly Clarke’s POV. Title is from the song "Falling in Love" by Ben Rector.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no place i'd rather be (than with you next to me)

The relief Clarke feels at being back on campus is pretty short lived when she realizes she’s going to go broke. 

It’s been a tough year for her, between losing her father and her relationship with her mother completely falling apart, she wasn’t sure she was going to make it back to school once September falling apart. That, combined with the fact that the house she grew up in didn’t feel like home anymore convinced Clarke to get a small apartment off campus, and she packed up what belongings she could get into her car before her mom could talk her out of it, and then she was gone.

She spent what little money she had left on the deposit, and on registering for classes, and while she was able to get a few scholarships the year before, her mother’s income pretty much ensures that the people at FAFSA are not going to give her any financial aid.

“You should get a job,” her friend Wells tells her, on the phone from California where he’s in school. “Or you could just ask your mom--”

“No,” Clarke cuts him off, “No. It’s... no. I want to do this. I don’t want to owe her anything.”

Wells is quiet, “You should do something with kids,” he says finally, “You’re good with them.”

“Good idea,” she says, smiling softly even though he can’t see her. “Thanks,” she tells him, and she hopes that he understands that she’s not just thanking him for the idea.

.

.

A month later the air on the east coast gets cooler and the leaves start to change color, and Clarke almost slams on her brakes in the middle of a two-lane highway when she drives by a cider mill that has a large sign out front advertising that they’re hiring.

It’s perfect, she realizes as she pulls in up the gravel driveway and into the parking lot. They have a giant cider mill, an apple orchard, and they offer hayrides. She sees some people milling about in red t-shirts with the name “Aurora’s” on the front, and they all look about her age, so she figures she's a shoe-in.

When she walks into the large barn, the smell of cinnamon and apples hits her immediately, and she stops for a second, her throat tightening as she remembers when her dad would take her apple picking. 

“Can I help you?” A voice asks, and Clarke turns to see a dark-haired girl, about her age, with her hair done up in several intricate braids regarding her with a smile. 

“Hi,” Clarke says, “I saw the sign that you guys were hiring--”

“We are!” The girl says excitedly, “We’ve been understaffed for _months_  and I think Bellamy might go insane if he has to lead another hayride, so--”

“Octavia,” a guy’s voice interrupts, and Clarke looks to her left to see a tall guy, olive complexion with dark eyes looking at the girl, a warning in his eyes. “You’re doing it again,” he chastises, but it sounds fond. 

“Sorry,” The girl -- Octavia, Clarke corrects herself -- says, and then beams at Clarke. “This is Bellamy. He owns the place. You should talk to him about the job.”

“Thanks,” Clarke says, and when she turns to face Bellamy, he’s frowning at her, and Clarke immediately tenses. “I saw the sign--” she says slowly, and he’s shaking his head before she can finish her sentence.

“You don’t want the job,” he says, looking her up and down in a way that makes her face flame hot.

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t want this job, princess. Trust me.” He crosses his arms over his chest and Clarke observes him for a moment with narrowed eyes before thrusting her resume at his chest. 

“My name is _Clarke_ , not princess. Thanks for the interview.”

She doesn’t look back as she walks to her car, but she thinks she can feel his eyes on her until she’s through the large double doors leading to the parking lot. 

.

.

The next week passes uneventfully, and Clarke is grateful for it. She has plenty of time to study and her classes are going pretty well, but she can’t stop thinking about that job at the cider mill. It really would have been great, she thinks, but she tries not to dwell on it. There are other jobs, she tells herself.

It figures that it’s at that exact moment when her phone rings. It’s a number she doesn’t recognize, but the area code is local, so she picks it up. “Hello?”

“Is this Clarke Griffin?”

She recognizes his voice and she’s on guard instantly. “Yes, who is this?”

“Bellamy Blake,” he says, confirming her suspicions, “You applied for a job at the cider mill?”

“If you call you refusing to interview me and me throwing my resume at you ‘applying for a job’, then yes. That was me.”

The line is silent for a second and just when Clarke is debating on hanging up, his gruff voice says, “You’ve got the job. How soon can you start?”

Clarke grins, “Is tomorrow too soon?”

“9am,” he tells her. “Wear comfortable shoes.”

.

.

Clarke arrives at Aurora’s Orchard at 8:40 the next morning, and tries to tell herself that the butterflies in her stomach are just because she wants to do well, and nothing to do with the fact that she’s a tiny bit intimidated by Bellamy Blake.

She knows she can do the job, she’s not worried about that, and she knows that Bellamy just thinks she’s some privileged girl who’s never worked a day in her life -- which, he’s not _wrong_  -- but she’s determined to prove him wrong.

She’s had enough of people assuming who she is and what her life is like based on her last name. She knows the internship on her resume probably tipped him off, and if he ran a background check he probably already knows what kind of family she has, but still. 

She’s wearing a grey hoodie and jeans when she walks into the barn, and he’s there waiting for her with a clipboard. When he sees her, his face gives nothing away. He tosses a red t-shirt at her when she gets close enough, and she scowls at him. 

“Wear that,” he tells her. “We have sweatshirts too if you want one.”

“What’s with the clipboard?” 

“It’s for your training, princess,” he says, like she’s an idiot, and she grits her teeth so hard she’s afraid they’re going to crack.

“Do you have a problem with me?” She asks, when she decides she absolutely can’t hold it in a second longer. 

“No,” he says, but he doesn’t even look at her when he says it, so Clarke isn’t completely convinced. “Look, princess, this place belonged to my mother. I don’t want to hire people who are just here because their parents don’t send them enough allowance. I want to hire people who _want_  to do good work for this place, and for the community.”

It’s pretty impassioned for a speech about an apple orchard, Clarke thinks, and she bites her tongue to keep from snapping back about how her parents can’t send her an allowance because her Dad is _dead_  and her mom is -- well, her mom is her mom.

“I’m not an idiot,” Clarke says heatedly, “I need a job and you need someone to work for you. It’s not rocket science.” 

Bellamy blinks at her and then looks back down at his clipboard, scribbling something down. “Follow me,” he says, and then they’re off.

The rest of the day is spent pretty much like that -- Bellamy barely saying a word to Clarke and Clarke struggling to figure out what she’s going to be doing with the limited information he gives her. She thinks that he’s trying to scare her off, and she doesn’t understand it.

They go to the actual place where the cider is made, and she meets Monty and Jasper, who work there making the cider and a lot of the other products. They’re in school at the same university she is, and they’re both biochemists. “We’re coming up with the perfect cider recipe,” they tell her and Bellamy rolls his eyes. 

“They’re supposed to be making donuts,” he says pointedly. 

“We also make the donuts,” Jasper agrees, ignoring Bellamy and talking to Clarke instead.

“Let’s take ten,” Bellamy tells her. “I’ll meet you at the orchard.” He walks off before she can say anything, and Monty shrugs.

“He can be kind of grumpy, but he’s a good guy, really. It’s a lot for him, I think, taking over this place.”

Clarke nods, and heads outside. She doesn’t have anything else to do, so she goes to the orchard and waits for Bellamy, smiling at a set of parents and their kids as they walk past her, the kids babbling about picking apples. 

Clarke looks at them, the mom and the dad strolling together, holding hands, and that feeling in her chest is back again, the one that reminds her that her parents will never hold hands again. She tries to blink away her tears hurriedly when she sees Bellamy approaching her.

He stops when he gets in front of her, and seems to consider her for a moment, his eyes sweeping over her like they did the first time she met him. “Are you okay?” He asks after a minute, and then runs a hand through his hair like he’s frustrated. “Octavia told me I was being a dick, so... sorry. I just--”

“Want people who want to work here, I know,” Clarke says tiredly. “It’s fine.”

He looks like he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t, just closes his jaw with an almost audible snap. 

They spend her last two hours in the orchard, him showing her the right way to pick apples off the trees, and which ones still need more time. By the end of the day, she feels like her shoulders are going to fall off her body because, okay, she’s not the _tallest_  person alive, and has to reach a lot farther than Bellamy does to get an apple off even the lowest branch. 

All he does is smirk at her too, until thankfully Octavia comes by with a small ladder, glaring at Bellamy as she goes. “You’re going to kill Clarke before she even finishes her first day,” she admonishes. “We need her, whether you want to admit it or not,” Octavia continues, and Clarke watches with mild fascination as a muscle in Bellamy’s jaw starts to jump. 

“Aw, Octavia, I didn’t know you felt that way,” Clarke says teasingly, and Octavia lets out a loud laugh.

“See? I like her. She can stay,” Octavia says, grinning at Bellamy before she heads back to the barn.

Bellamy still looks tense when Clarke directs her gaze back to him, but the corners of his lips are twitching like he wants to smile. 

Clarke counts that as a win.

.

.

Clarke starts working part time at the cider mill even though she really wants forty hours, but Bellamy denies that almost as soon as she brings it up.

“You’re in school,” he says, and that is apparently the end of the conversation, given that he walks away from her almost immediately after he says it.

Clarke scowls at him the whole time. She likes the orchard and the cider mill and wants to work more because, okay, she doesn’t have that many other friends, and she has a lot of free time. She wants to be productive. She doesn’t want to sit around and think about her Dad. She doesn’t want to avoid calls from her mother without a legitimate excuse.

She spends most of the hours she _is_  allowed to work in the barn, running the cash register and stocking shelves. Bellamy works with some local farmers to get some other things in the shop that they can’t make themselves in the orchard -- honey and jams from a farm down the road, and even some locally made soaps and lotions. People flock to the place on the weekends, Clarke learns, and she’s starting to think Octavia wasn’t kidding when she told her that they really needed the extra help.

“This place has been around for years, so we have a lot of families that make it tradition to come here. Our Mom really loved that.” Octavia tells her one day when both their lines slow down. “It’s why this place means so much to Bellamy.”

Clarke nods, and she’s beginning to see it too, the way that people come here and are so _excited_. She’s happy to be part of it, especially because she knows she won’t have any more family traditions, not for a long time.

“Clarke,” Bellamy’s voice interrupts, “I need your help out here if you’ve got a second.”

When the one-month anniversary of Clarke working at Aurora’s passed, something changed about the way Bellamy acted around her. It was as if he finally realized that he could trust her not to run his business into the ground. He was nicer, although still gruff, and he still looks at her sometimes like she’s a puzzle he can’t figure out. 

Heading outside, Clarke shivers and pulls her jacket a little tighter around her, ducking her head down so her scarf covers half her face. It’s only October, but the wind has been picking up for the last couple days. They’re expecting a storm, and Bellamy’s been freaking out about it.

“... need to reinforce a couple of those beams. The wind should die down, but I don’t want to take any chances,” Bellamy was saying as she got closer, and she recognizes Miller, one of the people who keeps this place running. If you had a problem and couldn’t find Bellamy or Octavia, you went to Miller. “Clarke,” Bellamy says when he notices her, and Miller shoots her a small smile. “Can you help with this?”

“Just hold the tarp on one end while I nail in the other,” Miller says, and Clarke nods, holding on to the tarp where he indicates. “Here,” Miller says again, laughing a little as he pulls a stool closer to her. 

“I’m not _that_ short,” Clarke says, but even she’s smiling. There’s something about being around this group of people that just makes her happy. 

Miller goes up to one side of the barn, nailing the tarp down on one side of where he’s going to start a small construction project. Clarke stands dutifully on the stool Miller dragged over for her, and doesn’t have time to second-guess the decision until she hears a _crack_  sound out, and then her feet are falling out from under her. She hears Miller call for her, but she lands on the ground in a heap before she can break her fall, and sits there for a minute, stunned.

“Shit,” Miller says, scrambling down off the ladder to get to her, but before he can, Bellamy is there, crouching down next to her.

“Princess?” He asks, and he sounds _worried_ , and Clarke begins to feel tears well up in her eyes because she’s embarrassed and pretty sure she landed on her ankle wrong, and --  “ _Clarke.”_ Bellamy says, more stern, and she notes dazedly that if he’s using her first name, he must be _really_  worried. “Can you stand?”

“I don’t know,” she says finally, and _oh god_ , does her voice really sound that pitiful? 

“Come on,” Bellamy says, and his voice is so gentle she can hardly stand it, because she doesn’t want his pity, not when he already thinks she’s a spoiled _princess_. “Clarke, I need to look at your ankle. Come on.”

Miller and Bellamy help her to her feet, even though she protests the entire time that she doesn’t need their help. Bellamy very succinctly tells her to shut up, and she accidentally elbows Miller in the ribs when she hears him try to smother a laugh.

By the time they get into the break room (which is really more of a kitchen than anything else) inside the barn, Octavia is already there, ready to usher Clarke into a chair. 

“I’m _fine,”_ Clarke says, and she’s only a little bit embarrassed when it comes out as more of a whine than anything else.

“Like hell you are. Stop being so stubborn and just let me look at your ankle.”

Clarke glares at Bellamy but does as he says, feeling sorry for herself the entire time. 

Her ankle isn’t broken, and Clarke is grateful if only because that means they don’t have to take her to the hospital, where they’d surely want to call her mom. 

“You’re going to stay home for the rest of the week,” Bellamy says, and Clarke’s face pinches as she frowns.

“It’s Tuesday! I can’t--”

“You can, and you will. You’re no good to us hobbling around here anyway. You need to rest and get better.”

“Bellamy--”

“This isn’t a discussion we’re having, Clarke!” He says loudly, and when Clarke looks at him there’s a flash of something in his eyes, something that suggests he’s worried about her as more than a coworker. She doesn’t really know what to make of it, and it’s gone before she can think on it any farther, but she notes the awkward silence that settles over the room after his outburst. 

.

.

Her days off turn out not to be that bad, especially when Octavia, Jasper and Monty come over one day after they get off shift, and bring crappy movies and junk food with them.

Clarke can’t remember the last time she actually had friends.

.

.

At the end of October, the gang at Aurora’s goes crazy for Halloween, or at least that’s what Clarke is slowly learning. After her ankle heals and she comes back to work, everyone makes a big show of following her around to make sure she doesn’t over-exert herself until she glares at them so much she drives them all away.

It’s endearing though, and slightly overwhelming for Clarke to suddenly have so many people who care about her, and Clarke doesn’t even say anything when she notices that Bellamy is always somewhere nearby. 

“We should get matching costumes for Halloween night,” Octavia says one day when Clarke gets there for her shift, “We get a lot of kids who come for the hayrides. It would be cute!”

That’s how Clarke finds herself at Octavia and Bellamy’s place one Friday when they’re all off work, trying to find costume ideas on the internet as Bellamy watches some history documentary. 

“There’s nothing good,” Octavia whines, and Bellamy scoffs.

“You know, I never gave you permission to dress up. You have a uniform.” 

“Good thing I didn’t ask you, then,” Octavia says. “You’re so grumpy these days. That’ll give the kids all the frights they need,” she mutters, and Clarke snorts. 

In the end, they can’t decide on any characters in particular, so Octavia settles for some kind of Greek-themed costumes, complete with togas and gold tiaras that rest on their hair. The night of, Octavia insists on Clarke coming over to do her hair and her makeup, and Clarke has to admit - this is the most dressed up she’s looked in months.

Octavia is so excited about it that Clarke can’t help but get in the spirit. 

“So when we get there, Bellamy will probably have us hand out some candy, and then we’ll all take turns leading the kids through the corn maze, and taking groups out on a hayride. We don’t have to drive, but the parents like it when we watch the kids while they shop,” she tells Clarke, rolling her eyes fondly.

Clarke drives them both to Aurora’s, and the parking lot is already starting to fill up when they get there. 

“Let the games begin,” Octavia mutters as they get out of the car, and they go around to the back of the barn to let themselves in and meet up with the others.

“There you two are,” Bellamy says when they walk in, not looking up from his clipboard, “We’ve been waiting for you to--” he stops when he looks up, his eyes locking on Clarke’s immediately, and something warm settles over Clarke as she watches Bellamy take her in.

He gives her a slow once-over, and Clarke thinks she sees his eyes darken momentarily until he clears his throat, shaking himself out of it. Clarke blushes, and ignores Octavia’s amused gaze from next to her.

“Okay Bellamy, we all know Clarke looks hot. Now, what do you want us to do first?”

Clarke flushes even more as Bellamy splutters, trying to formulate a response, but is saved when Jasper bursts through the doors, babbling about how he’s just made the best batch of apple cider in the world. 

The moment gone, Clarke breaks Bellamy’s gaze and heads out into the mass hysteria that is Aurora’s Orchard on Halloween.

.

.

Later that night, Clarke is bringing back the last group of kids from the corn maze, a little girl clinging to her hand on one side. The girl is afraid of the dark, and Clarke manages to keep her from breaking down the entire time they’re inside the maze. 

“See?” She whispers, “You can see the barn from here, we’re almost back!” She says cheerfully, feeling tiny fingers squeeze her hand. 

“Do I get some more candy?” The girl asks, and Clarke grins.

“I think I can make that happen.”

When they finally emerge from the maze, Clarke crouches down next to the girl, still holding her hand. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“I guess not,” she says, skeptically, “I still don’t like corn though,” she says seriously, and Clarke tries not to laugh.

“Fair enough. Let me see about getting you some candy, and then back to your parents, okay?”

When Clarke straightens up and looks towards the barn, Bellamy is there, leaning against the doorway, and Clarke feels the flutter in her chest from earlier come back with a vengeance. He comes towards them, and Clarke has to stop herself from fidgeting under his gaze. 

“Careful princess,” he murmurs, reaching up to straighten the gold crown on her head, “can’t have you wandering around without a crown.”

His words are touching, but Clarke frowns, because she doesn’t understand why Bellamy is suddenly paying her so much attention. It’s only been a few months that they’ve known each other, and he certainly didn’t make it a secret that he didn’t like her when she first started. 

“Thanks,” she says, taking a step back from him, ignoring the look of hurt that flashes across his face quickly, “I’ve got to get her back to her parents.”

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat. 

Clarke skirts around him and takes the girl into the barn, where they find her parents, and some more candy. Clarke pretends she can’t feel Bellamy’s eyes on her for the rest of the night.

.

.

.

The next day, she’s out in the Orchard towards the end of her shift. She doesn’t really have much to do, and she’s going to clock out in a half hour, so she’s mostly just soaking up the sunlight.

Wandering up and down the rows, she reaches for an apple on the end of a branch, her artist's eye itching to paint it. It’s the perfect shape and color and the sunlight is hitting it just right. 

“What are you doing out here?” Bellamy’s voice interrupts her thoughts, and she whirls around, startled.

(For a moment, she thinks about how the sunlight is hitting _him_  just right too, and how she’d like to draw him, if she could. She tries to shake the thought off as soon as it comes)

“You scared me,” she accuses. 

“Sorry.” He says, shrugging, but she can tell that he’s anything but sorry. “You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

“I was just--”

“And you can’t just pick the apples--”

“It’s an _apple orchard._ ”

Bellamy stares at her, so hard that Clarke can practically feel a hole being burnt into the side of her head. His hands are on his hips in that way that he does sometimes, when he’s trying to mother-hen Octavia or trying to make sure Jasper and Monty don’t burn the place down.

“Why are you being so nice to me lately?” Clarke blurts the question that’s been on her mind since Halloween. 

“What?”

“You’re just... I don’t know. Different.”

Some color appears in Bellamy’s cheeks, and Clarke finds that she can’t look away. “I think I misjudged you.”

Clarke shuts her eyes and sighs. “Octavia told you.” The _about my parents_  goes unsaid, but she knows Bellamy understands what she means all the same.

“I asked. She didn’t... She didn’t tell me on a whim.” As if Clarke’s biggest worry was that Octavia somehow betrayed their friendship. Clarke almost wants to laugh. Octavia is fiercely loyal, that much Clarke has figured out in the short time they’ve known each other.

“I don’t want your pity,” she says, sudden anger welling up inside her at the idea that he’s only been nice to her because he feels bad for her. “I can take care of myself and I don’t want--”

“I don’t feel bad for you,” he says, like he can’t believe she would think that. “I think it’s brave that you’re venturing out on your own when you could really easily just go back home and be taken care of.” He stops for a second, like he’s considering what he wants to say next. “I think... I think you’re a lot more than I thought at first, Clarke.” He tells her, and his voice is _so soft_. Clarke wants to hate it, hate _him_ , but she finds that she can’t.

She doesn’t know what to say, so she just stares at the ground, trying to ignore him. “My shift is over,” she says finally, and goes to move past him. She notes with mild interest that his fists are clenched at his sides as she goes around him, back towards the barn, but she doesn’t look back.

She doesn’t trust herself to.

.

.

.

Halloween is a Friday, and that Sunday, Clarke calls off work. She spends the day studying and cleaning her apartment, really doing anything she can think of to take her mind off the way Bellamy looked at her like he’d never seen her before, and how his voice sounded when he told her she was _more_. 

On one hand, she’s happy that he doesn’t think of her as a spoiled brat anymore, but it also scares her that maybe this thing she’s starting to feel for him isn’t as one-sided as she assumed it would be. 

Frustrated, Clarke sighs and runs a hand through her hair haphazardly, flopping down onto her couch. Looking out the window at the cool fall day, she frowns, noticing a familiar car pulling into the parking lot outside of her building.

 _Bellamy_.

Clarke startles, and she can feel her pulse rocketing. _Don’t be stupid_ , her mind yells at her, _he’s your boss!_ Also, Octavia is quickly becoming Clarke’s (only) closest friend and she’s pretty sure having a crush on your friend’s older brother is crossing some type of line. 

When the knock on her door comes, Clarke stares at her door, eyes narrowed, contemplating what she should do. She doesn’t know why he’s here, but things have been so weird between them lately, she’s almost afraid to find out.

“Clarke?” He calls from the hallway, and she sighs, her shoulders slumping. There’s no hiding out this time.

Heading to the front door, Clarke takes a deep breath before twisting the handle, revealing a frazzled looking Bellamy.

“Hey,” he says, tentatively. 

“Hi...” She says, feeling unsure of herself.

“I thought... I thought you called off because you were sick, so Octavia told me to bring you soup.”

 _Busted_ , Clarke thinks, but he looks more amused than anything else, so she smiles and opens the door wider, inviting him in. “Are you going to fire me?” She asks when they get to the kitchen, and he sets the container down on her counter.

He snorts, “No. Octavia would kill me. Plus, it’s not the first time someone needed a personal day.”

Clarke smiles as he hands her the container, opening it. “Well. I might not be sick, but I definitely won’t turn down soup.”

“You want to tell me the real reason you called off today?” Bellamy asks, studying her intently, and Clarke shuffles her feet, looking down at the ground. “Did I freak you out that much?” He says it teasingly, but there’s something underneath, something in his tone that suggests he’s serious.

“I...” Clarke starts, before realizing she doesn’t know what to say. “I don’t care that you know about my parents, but I care that you’re going to start treating me differently because you suddenly had a revelation that you were a huge asshole when you hired me,” she blurts, and the look on his face is almost comical.

“That’s not--”

“You judged me from the start, and I get that you did what you had to do to make sure I was a legitimate person, or whatever, but I don’t want you to be nice to me just because you found out that my Dad is dead and that my Mom is... my mom.”

“I’m not just taking pity on you,” Bellamy says, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “I wouldn’t do that. I know how it feels.”

Clarke stops, considering him. She realizes for a second that she doesn’t really know anything about Bellamy Blake. Octavia’s told her a little bit - that their mother died when Octavia was only twelve, and Bellamy practically raised her. A guilty feeling starts to creep over her, and so she does what she does best -- she hides it and pushes it away. 

“That doesn’t make it better,” she argues, watching him deflate at her words, and then straighten back up. 

“I told you...” Bellamy starts, then stops himself, clenching his jaw. “You’re making it really hard to apologize, princess.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, “Oh, sorry. Please continue. You were doing such a good job of it before.”

Bellamy’s eyes narrow briefly, but he seems to change moods at the last second, his eyebrow quirking and an amused smile growing on his face. “I think I kinda like you, princess,” he says, and Clarke refuses to acknowledge the way her heart speeds up at his words. “I think you’re pushing me away because you like me too, a little bit. Even if I am an asshole.”

Clarke wants to yell, wants to tell him she’s quitting, that she doesn’t _like him_  because she’s not in third grade, and because sure, she’s seen glimpses of the good person that’s somewhere deep inside of him. “Is that all you wanted?” She asks instead, tilting her chin up, trying not to let her voice shake.

He looks at her for a moment that seems to stretch on and on, and then his voice does that thing again, that thing where it goes low and gravely, and Clarke _hates_  him. “That’s all I wanted,” he settles on, but his gaze is intense as it rests on her.

“Okay.” Clarke struggles to get her heartbeat under control. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

.

.

.

“What’s going on with you and my brother?” Octavia asks the next day, and Clarke almost falls off a stepladder again. 

“What?” She asks, setting down her bushel of apples to look at her friend. “What are you talking about?”

Octavia snorts, “Don’t play dumb with me, Griffin. Something weird is going on with you two.”

Clarke goes silent, debating about how much to tell her. Nothing has _really_  happened, so she doesn’t see the harm in it, but she thinks she recognizes the glint in Octavia’s eyes. It’s the same one that was there on Halloween. 

“He came to my apartment yesterday to apologize for being an asshole to me since I took the job,” she says, settling on the truth.

Octavia actually looks shocked, and Clarke starts to feel alarmed.

“He never apologizes,” Octavia explains. “I knew he liked you.”

Clarke doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t even know what to _think_. She supposes that she misjudged Bellamy at first, too. Yeah, he was an asshole to her, but she never gave him a second chance. She knows that Bellamy is more than he lets on. Octavia looks at her older brother like he hung the moon, so Clarke knows there’s a part of Bellamy that’s she’s only just begun to see. 

“I guess I don’t really know what to do about it.” Clarke says honestly. 

“Just don’t... don’t write him off yet, okay?” Octavia says, her dark eyes wide and imploring. “I think... I think he likes you because you don’t put up with his shit. He needs someone like that. Someone who isn’t his kid sister.” She smiles, her teeth gleaming.

Clarke laughs, and reaches up to pick a few more apples off the branch above her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Bellamy and Miller working the registers inside the barn, and she watches as he makes small talk with an elderly woman, the smile on his face completely charming. 

“I knew it,” Octavia says quietly next to her, “I knew you didn’t think he was a _total_  asshole.” She’s grinning when she says it, but Clarke still flushes.

Yeah. Not a _total_  asshole, Clarke thinks.

.

.

.

Everything goes to hell one day in mid-November when Abigail Griffin shows up at Aurora’s. Clarke doesn’t know how she found out where she worked, other than from a government connection who got hold of her W-2, or something.

Clarke is furious. When Octavia told her someone was looking for her, she thought maybe Wells had decided to surprise her, but when she came out of the break room and into the barn and saw her mother standing there, she flipped.

Her mouth opened and shut again, and she was sure she looked like a complete idiot, but she simply turned on her heel and walked into the back, locking herself in the bathroom.

“Clarke?” Octavia’s voice is muffled through the door. “Are you okay?”

“What’s with her-- ow!” Jasper’s voice comes through next, and Clarke rolls her eyes.

“Clarke, come out of there.” 

“Not until she leaves,” Clarke says, stubbornly. 

Octavia is quiet for a minute. “That’s your mom, right?”

Clarke is silent, and she can hear Octavia murmuring something to Jasper. 

“You can’t stay in there forever.”

“Oh yeah?” Clarke challenges, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans against the wall. “She has no right to show up here and just decide--”

“I know, Clarke. I know. You’re mad and you’re allowed to be mad, but she drove all the way here, and--”

“I don’t want to see her. Just... _please_ , O.” Clarke says, pleading a little bit, feeling tears start to well up in her eyes at the thought of the last conversation she had with her mother. 

She hears Octavia’s footsteps as they get farther away, and she sinks to the floor, leaning against the wall, finally letting the tears come. The memories of her mother telling her that her father wasn’t going to make it, that they weren’t going to resuscitate... it  all came rushing back when she saw her mom standing there in the middle of the barn, looking at the place like she wanted to take Clarke as far away from there as she possibly could.

Clarke doesn’t know how long she sits in there, crying, thinking about her mom and her dad and how in one day her entire life went up in smoke, but she lets out a small yelp when the small window in the bathroom suddenly opens from the outside, and then Bellamy is clambering inside, his limbs flailing for a minute before he lands on his feet. 

“What the _hell_ \--” Clarke starts, furiously wiping at her eyes.

“Octavia said you locked yourself in here.”

“I told her, I don’t want--”

“Your mom isn’t here anymore. She said she has a hotel in town if you change your mind.”

Clarke blinks at him, not sure of what to say. “You probably think I’m such a spoiled brat right now,” she decides on, laughing bitterly. 

Bellamy regards her with a blank face, his expression not giving anything away. “I think your Mom was shitty to you when your Dad died, and you ran away, and now she’s here again.”

“I didn’t run away.”

“I think you did.”

“Well, I don’t care what you think--”

“Can you stop for one minute? I’m not accusing you of anything.”

“Then what are you doing in here, Bellamy?” Clarke nearly shouts, and Bellamy recoils as if she’s slapped him.

An awkward silence settles over the room. 

He clears his throat before he begins speaking, his tone reminiscent of the days when she first started at Aurora’s - cold and stern. “I’m in here because Monty and Jasper were listening through the door and said they could hear you crying. And not just crying, like... shoulder-shaking sobs. They were worried.” He exhales. “So was I,” he mutters. 

Clarke feels, strangely, like she might cry again, so she just doesn’t say anything. This is not how she pictured the next time she and Bellamy were alone together. 

“If you don’t let go of some of that anger, you’re going to combust,” he says casually. 

“I could always take it out on you,” she says and means it to come out as a threat, but it falls flat, and Bellamy laughs.

“You’re not as scary as you think, princess.”

“Neither are you,” Clarke counters, softly. 

Bellamy’s eyes snap to hers, and a flicker of something -- longing? -- crosses his face before he blinks, and it’s gone. 

“Come on. I’m buying you a coffee and you can’t say no, or you’re fired.”

Clarke quirks an eyebrow, “That’s harassment, you know.”

Bellamy grins, “Fine. Let me get you a cup of Jasper’s _finest_  hot apple cider. It’ll make you feel better.”

Slowly, Clarke takes Bellamy’s offered hand and gets to her feet. When she stands next to him, he doesn’t let go, and neither does she.

.

.

The rest of the day goes by without incident. Octavia insists on going home with Clarke, “for moral support” and Clarke has never been more grateful that she found a job at Aurora’s. 

 _Don’t let her eat too much candy,_ Bellamy texts her later, and Clarke smirks.

 _Don’t worry, dad._  Clarke texts back, and she can picture Bellamy trying to hold back a laugh. He might act like he hates everyone calling him Dad, but Octavia has told her about Bellamy’s paternal instincts. He just can’t help it.

 _Cute, Griffin_  he sends back a few minutes later, and then, _hope you feel better._

Remarkably, she does start to feel better. Octavia watches crappy movies with her until around 7pm when she convinces her to call her Mom.

When her mom comes over and after hours of yelling and crying and finally starting to hash some things out, Octavia comes out of Clarke’s room where she’d been hiding out, and hugs her for a long time.

“Thanks, O,” Clarke says, sniffing. 

Octavia introduces herself to Abby, and Clarke starts to finally see that there might be a light at the end of the tunnel. 

.

.

.

It’s the end of November when Bellamy gathers them all in the break room and talks to them about the partial shutdown for winter. They do seasonal carriage rides and do a tree lighting, but the Orchard has to be maintained, and the barn needs to be reinforced before the first snowfall. After that, he encourages everyone to look for other part time jobs until they re-open in the spring. 

It hits Clarke kind of hard. Obviously she knew they couldn’t stay open all year, at least not full time, but she’d never given any thought to where she might look for work when she wasn’t working at Aurora’s. 

“I usually just get a job waitressing,” Octavia tells her, and Jasper encourages her to get a job at the school library. 

“You’re kind of a nerd, you’d fit in great,” he teases her. 

“Clarke,” Bellamy interrupts, “Can I talk to you for a minute?” He gestures towards a small room near the break room, once Aurora’s office. Bellamy uses it sometimes, for keeping up the books, but Clarke thinks he doesn’t really like to spend a lot of time in there.

“If you’re going to fire me, it’s too late,” she says once he leads her inside, and he grins, a lopsided smile that she’s getting more and more used to seeing.

“You looked upset out there,” he says, and Clarke shrugs.

“Just going to miss this place, that’s all.”

Bellamy looks at her for a long minute, his eyes seeming to be cataloguing every part of her face. Clarke struggles to stand still, to not fidget under his intense stare, but she shuffles her feet anyway, seemingly breaking the moment.

“You know, just because we all won’t be working together for a little while doesn’t mean we won’t still be around.” He clears his throat. “You know how O is... once you let her in your life there’s no getting rid of her.” He smiles fondly. “And... me, too. You know, if you ever... if you ever need anything.” 

He looks like he wants to say more, and Clarke finds that her throat feels tight and that the air around them is suddenly charged in a way that it hasn’t been any other time with the two of them.

“I better get back out there,” Clarke says, when Bellamy doesn’t meet her eyes again. 

“Yeah.” He agrees, seeming distracted. 

“Bellamy? Thanks.” Clarke says, halfway out the door. She smiles at him, and the corners of his lips tilt upwards as he half-smiles back, and Clarke has to get out of there before she does something stupid like try to kiss him. 

.

.

Everyone from Aurora’s goes out to dinner to celebrate another successful fall season. They meet at The Ark, a bar and grill just a few blocks from the university, and Clarke’s apartment. 

They eat some great food, made by a guy named Lincoln that Octavia knows, and Clarke struggles not to laugh at Octavia’s shameless flirting that leaves the large, gruff looking man nearly blushing. 

“I may have picked this place because I’ve been dropping hints for Lincoln for weeks,” Octavia says, pink tinting her cheeks. 

“I shouldn’t have let you pick the place,” Bellamy says, his eyes narrowed at the chef as he drops off another course.

“It’s harmless,” Clarke says, chiding Bellamy, “Look at the way he’s looking at your sister. He clearly likes her.” 

“He’s too old for her.” 

“Okay, grandpa.” Clarke says, rolling her eyes, and Bellamy scoffs next to her. 

An hour or so goes by, and they all eat and share stories from the Orchard, Clarke getting to hear some great anecdotes from before she started working there. For the hundredth time, she feels so grateful that she’s been welcomed into this family of sorts. Jasper and Monty make sure no one takes the job too seriously, and Miller takes a lot of the responsibility off of Bellamy’s shoulders. Octavia keeps everyone in line, and Clarke isn’t quite sure where she fits in, until Miller, who’s had a few drinks, chimes in.

“I’m serious, Clarke, if you wouldn’t have started here, I think Bellamy would have gone gray.”

Clarke feels heat rush to her cheeks as everyone looks at her, nodding. “I didn’t...” she starts to protest, but Miller cuts her off.

“No, I’m serious! He was always trying to do everything himself, and even though he had that sign that said he was hiring, he turned down everyone who applied before you came along.”

Clarke sneaks a look at Bellamy, who is looking down at his plate, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. Clarke doesn’t know what to say, or do, so she just shrugs. “I just wanted to help.”

“Well,” Octavia starts, “You did. You guys make a great team.” There’s a gleam in Octavia’s eyes that only intensifies when Clarke glares at her. 

“I’m going to get another drink,” Bellamy says abruptly, pushing his chair back and heading to the bar.

“Oops,” Octavia says, “He doesn’t like to admit it when he needs someone,” she tells Clarke quietly, as the others go back to their food and conversations. 

Clarke watches Bellamy at the bar, his shoulders tense, and debates about it for two seconds before she tells Octavia she’ll be back, and gets out of her seat.

.

.

Bellamy gets up from the table as discreetly as he can, heading to the bar. He needs to get away from the table, from the idea that all of his coworkers and friends can apparently see it written on his face how much Clarke has changed things at Aurora’s.

He doesn’t know how it happened, honestly. There was just something about her when she marched into the barn that first day, and practically threw her resume at him. And yes, he had judged her a little harshly, but he’d seen it before -- girls that showed up just because they liked the romantic idea of an apple orchard in fall -- and didn’t want to waste his time on another application that would end up falling flat.

Clarke proved him wrong though, as much as he hated to admit it. She was just... different. And yeah, he had tried to cover up the fact that she proved him wrong by being an asshole, but he didn’t really know how else to be. 

All the talk about Clarke taking a weight off his shoulders wasn’t wrong, but it was... strange, to say the least. Bellamy didn’t need anyone. He was used to taking care of everyone else, especially his sister, and sharing some of that burden with Clarke... more specifically the realization that he _could_  share it with Clarke, that he _trusted_  her... that was the hard part.

And adding fuel to the proverbial fire were the fleeting moments they’d shared... the lingering looks, the casual touches... it was beginning to be too much. As he got to know her, who she really was, he liked her more, and he was pretty sure she felt that spark too. 

Then, when her mother showed up out of the blue, and he saw what her family life was really like, he realized they had more in common than he ever thought they would. 

She seemed to think so too, if their recent conversations were any indication. He didn’t quite know what to do about that. She was exactly the type of person he could see himself with, but he couldn’t imagine putting himself or his wants first. He didn’t deserve that. 

“Bellamy?” Her voice startles him out of his thoughts as he’s up at the bar waiting for his drink, and he half turns to see her looking up at him expectantly, her eyes bright after she’s had a few drinks. “Are you okay?”

He fights the urge to shut his eyes and wonder how on earth she was possibly concerned about _him_. “I’m fine,” he says, turning to hand the bartender a couple bills as he grabs his beer. 

“I just... sorry if that conversation made you uncomfortable. I think Miller has had too much to drink,” she says sheepishly, her cheeks an alluring shade of pink. He forces himself to look away as she licks her lips. 

“He’s not wrong,” he hears himself say. “You... you really did take a lot of the stress away when you came on the staff. We needed the extra help.”

“I didn’t--”

“No, you did. You helped, princess,” he says, cutting her protests off. “I might not have showed it all the time, but you did.”

She doesn’t say anything, but she’s still looking at him like that, with bright blue eyes and a small smile on her face. He feels like they’re right on the precipice of something, something _big_ , and it feels like a kaleidoscope of butterflies is taking flight in his stomach. 

“Clarke...” He takes a step closer, and she does the same, though he’s not sure it’s a conscious action on her part. 

“Let’s take a walk,” she says suddenly, though the male pride in him swells when he hears how breathless she sounds. 

He debates it for two seconds before he puts his still full beer back on the bar. “Okay,” he agrees, and the smile she gives him in response is worth it.

.

.

They’re walking aimlessly, and Clarke can’t shake the jitters she feels every time Bellamy’s arm brushes against hers as they walk. “Okay,” she says suddenly, stopping in her tracks, “I can’t really deal with this awkwardness anymore, so I’m just going to say it--” Bellamy looks at her with wide eyes, but she keeps going, “-- I... I like you, and I feel like sometimes... sometimes you look at me like you like me too and I don’t really know what to do about it, because you’re Octavia’s brother, and you’re my boss, and maybe I’m just all wrong about this, but--”

“Clarke--”

“And I don’t want to ruin anything because I feel like we have a really good partnership going, and I can’t lose anyone else because--”

“ _Clarke.”_

 _“_ So if I ruined this, let’s just forget about it and go back to the others, because--”

She doesn’t finish her sentence because Bellamy takes three steps in her direction and cups her face in his large hands, and brings his mouth down on hers, cutting off whatever she was about to say. He kisses her with a sort of desperation, and she’s helpless to do anything but melt into him. 

They break apart for air after a few moments that feel like hours, and she presses her forehead to his, struggling to stay upright. 

“I’m not your boss,” he says, and she only has a second to appreciate the rough, gravel-like tone to his voice before he kisses her again. 

“What?” She breathes when they break apart again, and he laughs softly.

“I’m not your boss anymore, remember?” 

Clarke smiles, “Oh, yeah. That’s right.” 

“So I think we won’t be breaking any rules when I take you out to dinner on Saturday.” 

“Is that right?” Clarke asks, admiring the way his eyes darken as his gaze falls on her mouth. 

“If you want to go, that is.” 

“I think I could be persuaded,” she tells him, lacing their fingers together. 

“Good.” Bellamy grins.

.

.

Octavia and Jasper are insufferable when they find out about Clarke and Bellamy, and Miller just smiles smugly and crosses his arms over his chest, winking at Clarke. 

“Told you,” he says, and Clarke blushes as Bellamy rolls his eyes. 

When they go back to work at the Orchard next fall, Clarke takes on assistant manager duties with Octavia, and takes great pride in taking the “now hiring” sign down from the side of the road. 

**END**


End file.
